


hey, the inside of this trunk sure is dark

by WDW



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, but that's okay, this really is not what you're expecting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-15 22:52:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13041165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WDW/pseuds/WDW
Summary: [Crossposted from Tumblr because I had almost forgotten about this!  Answer to a prompt to write a fic about this title, seen here: http://dubsdeedubs.tumblr.com/post/152181512320/kicks-down-your-door-hhere-is-a-second-titleWith a prompt like that, how could I turn it up?]This is a fic about an old man stuck in a car trunk.





	hey, the inside of this trunk sure is dark

The car sped over a pothole, jolting everything in the vehicle upwards by about two inches. Under usual circumstances, that fact would have been negligible.

Unfortunately for him, two inches counted for... _quite_ a bit when it came to small enclosed spaces. Especially one _as_ small, _as_ enclosed as - say, the trunk of a moving car.

...He _wished_ he was being hypothetical.

The old man took in a quick breath as his right shoulder banged hard onto the inside of the trunk lid, sending a jolt of sudden pain through his body. With the slightest of hesitations, he opened his eyes and squinted into the darkness.

…Pointless. The inside of the trunk was well sealed - not even a sliver of light peaking through from the outside. Against all logic, it seemed he could see even less of his surroundings with his eyes _open_. He groaned, rested his head in a nook in one side of the trunk, and bent his legs to ease some building tension, to no great success.

Distant sounds of radio chatter came from a few feet past an arbitrary point in his lower back. The driver made another haphazard turn and he braced himself for the impact with a grunt. This car trunk was not built for holding a person, especially not a grown man who wasn’t exactly slight in build _._

There was no getting out of this now. All he could do now was wait for the car to stop and… well, whatever happened afterwards, he probably shouldn't think about just yet. No use getting worked up well before the fact.

Not for the first time since getting stuck in the trunk of a moving vehicle, he cursed himself for the long series of terrible decisions that had led him up to the point.

The car continued driving, what should have objectively been a short amount of time made into eternity by the driver’s disregard for anything from speed bumps to potholes. Then smooth concrete road turned into unpaved gravel, and with a pang of sharp nervousness, he realized that he - he _knew_ what that meant.

They had reached their destination.

The vehicle shook with every forward foot, creaking worryingly, before it finally rolled to a stop. It tipped slightly as its driver stepped out, and the sound of his heavy foot steps grew increasingly quiet before fading away completely.

He gritted his teeth with anticipation and no small amount of fear. Then, distantly, he heard the sound of - not just the driver returning, but of _multiple_ approaching footsteps. They came quick and purposeful, and most tellingly, two of them kicked up small showers of gravel with every step.

 _It was them_.

He waited with bated breath, heart pounding. He had spent the entire ride biding for exactly the right time to strike - any earlier or later and he would lose the element of surprise, and _then_ where would he be?

There came the murmur of voices, growing louder and louder until they were directly outside. Someone thumbed at the opening mechanism, small slivers of light appeared in his bleary field of vision, and -

It was time.

Without hesitation, he sprang forward, pushed up the lid of the trunk with a bang, and closed his eyes with a hiss of surprise against the bright Californian sunlight.

It took a few seconds for him to blink past the dark spots at the edges of his vision, but just the sight of the people before him - however blurry - made his mouth go desert dry.

They stared back at him in clear shock, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape.

Then, as one, they were upon him.

“Grunkle Ford!” Mabel shouted with glee as she wrapped her arms tight around Ford’s upper torso, practically picking him up (when had she gotten so _strong?)_ with sheer force of emotion.

"M-Mabel -" He practically squeaked out, all air from his lungs forced out by his niece's iron grip.

“What are you doing here?" She demanded, letting go and stepping back slightly. "Grunkle Stan told us you were still in the hospital from the swamp monster in Florida!” Mabel turned to the right and gave Stanley - leaned up against a tree, smirking like the cat that got the cream - a Look.

Stanford opened his mouth helplessly.

“Mabel, I don’t think he can reply,” Dipper said mildly from beside him. “You’re squeezing him too hard. Waddles is a four hundred pound pig. Great-Uncle Ford _isn't._ ”

“Oh. Oops. Sorry about that, Grunkle Ford.” Mabel let go of him sheepishly, and Ford took in a few deep, relieved breaths of fresh air. “But really, what are you doing here? Are you - better now?" Her eyes widened. "Oh gosh, did I hurt you all over again by hugging you?"

“I'm perfectly fine, Mabel. Though…" Ford sighed. "Your Grunkle Stan wasn't lying about the skunk ape, I'm afraid. But kids, nothing short of death itself would keep me from attending your birthday celebration in person."

“It sure did make a good attempt this time,” Stan muttered under his breath. Ford ignored him.

“But,” Dipper prodded, looking dimly confused, "why were you in the _trunk_?"

“…I, um.” Ford started weakly. "Is that - not something people do nowadays? Jump out of things at celebrations?"

Dipper and Mabel turned as one to glare at his brother, who raised both of his hands in defense.

“Look, kids, it was his own idea!” Stanley defended. “Don't know how he got it in his head, but once it was in there… he just wouldn't drop it. I even warned him beforehand that being stuck in a dark trunk isn’t fun, not for _any_ length of time. _That_ I know from personal experience… I - I think…?"

He faltered, a lost expression passing briefly over his face. Ford tensed, while Dipper and Mabel pretended not to notice as Stanley regrouped himself. "...Anyways, bad idea. _Especially_ for a guy who just got out of the hospital."

"Grunkle Ford…" Mabel started worriedly.

"Like I said," he interjected, giving his brother a subtle glare. "I'm perfectly fine. Honestly. My injuries were - superficial, there was no lasting damage at all -"

"That's… a very low standard, Great-Uncle Ford -"

"- my ride here could have been more comfortable, certainly, but that's more on your Grunkle Stan's terrible driving than anything else -"

“Don't know what you're talkin' about, Sixer. I’m a _perfect_ driver.”

Dipper and Mabel exchanged identical haunted looks.

“Wasn’t my fault every road on the way was under construction," Stan protested. "And kids, I even told him, 'Look, Poindexter. The kids are gonna be glad to see you whether you jump out of a car trunk or not.' You two should’ve heard him whine. ‘It’s all about the surprise,’ my a - butt. Sixer just wanted to be dramatic, as _usual_.”

“Grunkle Stan,” Dipper said dryly, “you know that you can curse in front of us, right? We’re not kids anymore. And trust me, we’ve heard _way_ worse.”

Stan scoffed. “Kid -”

“This _is_ our eighteenth birthday party, Grunkle Stan,” Mabel piped up. “We’re going to college in a few months, remember?”

His brother opened his mouth, and closed it again. He looked between Dipper and Mabel quietly, and had to crane his neck upwards slightly to do so.

“Huh,” he said a bit thickly, an unreadable note in his voice. “…So you are.”

"I'm - afraid I still don't understand," Stanford tried again, unable to keep the confusion from his voice. "Did I misunderstand the tradition? I've been trying to catch up on the pop culture of the past thirty years during our brief stints offshore, but -"

Dipper and Mabel exchanged a Look. Mabel in particular looked like she was surpressing a grin.

"Well… you're - not wrong, Grunkle Ford. People - do, um, jump out of things at parties," she said haltingly, with a seriousness that was clearly forced. "Those things just tend to be... big cakes. Not car trunks."

"Not usually great-uncles who do the jumping, either," Dipper muttered. His sister elbowed him with a muffled giggle.

"But we loved this present anyways!" She emphasized. "We didn't expect it at all, which made it even better. But um. Grunkle Ford, just out of curiosity… how long _were_ you in that car trunk?”

“Not that long,” he replied absentmindedly, checking his watch. “Fifteen minutes, at the most?"

“But - you could have just pulled over a street early, right?” Dipper pointed out.

Stan and Ford went quiet.

“Great-Uncle Ford could’ve gotten into the trunk then," he continued, "and you would’ve had to drive for… less than a minute from there to get here. He didn't have to be in there for that long.”

“I…” Ford said slowly. “Yes, ah. I suppose we could have.”

Stan put his face in his hands.

“Thank you, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel said earnestly, side stepping the budding awkward silence. “This is the best eighteenth birthday present ever! The extra fourteen minutes you spent in the trunk of the Stanmobile just adds more character to the whole thing.”

He winced. “T-thank you, Mabel.”

“But just this time,” Dipper clarified pointedly. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to get into anymore car trunks, Grunkle Ford. No matter what your reason for it is.” Mabel nodded fervently.

“I will…” Ford coughed. “Keep that in mind.”

“Hey,” Stan interrupted with exaggerated mock-irritation. “Enough of that, you two. You seriously think your eighteenth birthday present is just Ford here jumping out of a car trunk? What kind of grunkles do you think we are?”

“But Grunkle Stan, after you said you were going to show us our present, you pointed to …” Mabel trailed off. Her eyes went wide.

“Stan?” Dipper asked unsurely, looking similarly poleaxed.

"Look," Stanley said with forced indifference, "Ford and I don't do a lot of traveling on land anymore, 'specially after McGucket got us the Stan o' War II. And uh, the ol' Stanmobile's getting rusty just sitting behind the Shack all the time. That's - not what she's meant for, y'know?" He shrugged awkwardly. "So, um.  I figured since both you kids are headin' across the country for school… You're going to need a dang - damn good car. And... there's only one that I trust enough for you two."

Dipper and Mabel stared at him, speechless.

"What?" He asked defensively. "Alright, yeah, she's a bit - dinged up, but I set up all kinds of custom thingamajigs over the years. Extra cup holders, trunk that can be opened from the inside, a dozen or so secret compartments hidden all over… little things. But… if you kids want one of those shiny new speedsters or whatever they're coming out with these days instead, Ford and I got a bit saved up from over the - _OOF."_

 

* * *

 

"Kids," Ford said carefully, "you might want to let go slightly. My brother's turning a bit blue."

 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is called 'twist fic' in my google docs


End file.
